


Soul's Core

by Lynds



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anxiety, Cinnamon Roll Dirk Gently, Depression, Dirk Gently Angst, Dirk Gently Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Entire fic is based on a Shawn Mullins album, Fluff and Angst, I just love the characters so much, I know it's Americana/Folk, I'm sorry there are no clear rules, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Project Blackwing (Dirk Gently), Project Blackwing (Dirk Gently), Road Trips, Self-Esteem Issues, Some are not, Soul's Core, Todd Brotzman is a Good Boyfriend, Todd is a musician, also I love the album, and not nearly punk enough for Todd, and only because Farah is paranoid, author projecting her issues like woah, but literally every song on that album is peak DGHDA, but only very briefly - Freeform, even before he's a boyfriend..., hence the title of the fic, mentions of suicide or self harm, poor Farah, she worries about her boys, some things are the same as canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-06-12 23:09:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15350793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynds/pseuds/Lynds
Summary: Todd has been travelling around the country, singing his heart out and sending all the money back to his parents. He's got to make up for what he did somehow, and Amanda won't accept his help. When he meets Dirk one day, and impulsively asks him to a gig, he realises there might be more to life than punishing himself. But Dirk has a painful past of his own, and Todd might have to dig deeper into himself than he ever thought possible to help him through it.





	1. Twin Rocks, Oregon

I met him on the cliffs at Twin Rocks, Oregon. 

I’d pulled over to watch the sunset, stretch my back out. Maybe find some peace after the predictable shit-show back in Seattle. I shook my head to clear out the memories, but Amanda’s face kept creeping back in there.

I didn't notice him at first, and when I did it was too late to backtrack, find somewhere quieter. He smiled up at me, and my legs carried me over.

“Hi!” he said, a wide, guileless smile breaking across his face, and my breath stuck in my throat.

I had to force my gaze away from his big, puppy dog eyes, look at the orange light spreading across the sky, just to be able to reply. “Hey.”

“I’m Dirk,” he said, holding out his hand and shuffling closer, tearing up all that carefully calculated space I’d put between us. “Dirk Gently. I’m a detective.”

It startled a laugh out of me, and I took his hand, shivering slightly as long fingers wrapped around mine. “Todd Brotzman. I’m a musician.”

“Really?” His eyes lit up and he scrambled even closer, elbows on his knees like a child. “What sort of music do you play?”

I hate that question. You can’t answer without sounding so up your own ass. But there was something about him that made me want to _explain_. Not just… pick a genre. “It’s just… me. Playing the guitar and singing. Not very well, either. I don’t really know what I sound like, I just sing about the people I meet, the towns I’ve been.”

“That sounds fascinating,” he said, and he seemed like he meant it. Now, I’ve met English people before and without exception they’ve been sarcastic bastards. Like, my kind of people. Dirk… either he was really good at hiding it or—

“Will you sing for me?”

I laughed, almost slapped my hand over my mouth, the sound startled me. “Uh… like here? No, I’m not singing here.”

His face fell. His smile dimmed, and my God, I swear the sun sank faster. “But,” I said quickly, anything to unbreak his heart, “I’m playing a gig tonight. In Portland. You could come?”

The smile was back on his face in an instant, and my heart double thumped. Relief. I just… didn’t want to upset anyone else today, that’s all.

“I don’t have a car. But thank you.”

I nodded, then looked back at the sunset.

“Do you live in Portland then?” he asked.

I shook my head and jerked my thumb at the car. “I’ve been touring for two years straight. I don’t think I really live anywhere any more.” I thought of Seattle. Pushed it away.

“Wow, you must be really famous!”

I laughed again, and it seemed to ache less. “I’m really not. They’re just… y’know. Coffee-house gigs.”

His smile sweetened as he leaned his chin on his arms. “But isn’t it a blessing to do what you want to do?”

My lips curled up involuntarily. “Maybe. What about you, Detective Dirk Gently?”

He smiled up at me, but there were clouds in front of the sunshine. “I’m not really a detective. Not yet. But maybe one day.”

“Are you any good at detecting?”

“Only the weird things.”

We sat quietly as the sun sank behind the horizon, the breeze picking up and bringing the tang of salt I’d not smelled in ages. I turned to Dirk, but his eyes were shut in the last rays of dusk, and in that moment every line of his body and face despaired. I frowned, and almost reached out to him. What made this ridiculous, sunny man so sad I could hardly bear it.

I shook myself. What was wrong with me? This kind of maudlin attachment I’d formed with him - why? Because he was a pretty face? I stood up sharply and dusted myself off. Tried not to see the way his eyes were even sad when they opened. “I’d better be heading off,” I said. “Uh, you need a lift anywhere?”

He smiled. He’d been smiling almost the whole time I’d known him, but now all the joy was gone. “Nope, I think I’m just going to sit here and rest,” he said, turning to look out to sea.

I hesitated, nodded, and walked back to my car.

My hands paused on the handle. I turned back to him. “Hey… you could come with me, you know.” What was I _doing?_ “There’s room in the car it’s…” I sighed in frustration. “You… wanted to hear me sing…”

I didn’t want to look up and see him laugh at me. Or… he was a nice guy, he’d probably just say no again. And think I was a weirdo. I shook my head and went for the door handle again.

“You’ll sing for me?”

I blinked. “Yeah. Sure. I mean - it's a gig. You know.”

He smiled, and the sun rose. “I’d like that.”


	2. Soul Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Soul Child](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=19t2UlXZ6gY)  
>  Walk proud, sing out loud   
> It always hurts to wonder why   
> One more mile, my soul child   
> You'll never know until you try 
> 
> Like fallin' rain, the days go by   
> Can't kill the pain and you wonder why   
> Be strong, hold on   
> Lotta love to go around   
> Stay wild, soul child   
> Don't you let 'em bring you down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG I got such lovely comments on chapter 1, I'm so nervous! I hope I can make the rest of it just as good, thank you!

Farah was waiting for me at the parking lot, and practically jumped on me as I got out of the car. “Jesus, Todd, you’re cutting it fine.”

I looked at my watch. “I’ve got fifteen minutes.”

“You’ve missed the sound check.” She bustled around me, slapping wrinkles out of my button-down. “Don’t you have something else to wear?”

“Sound check, really? Damn, Farah, you’ve booked me a classy joint today.”

“Only the best for you. Shirt!”

I rolled my eyes. “I’ll wear my jacket.”

“OK, I—“ She froze, her eyes widening and focusing behind me.

“Hi,” said Dirk, and waved.

Farah blinked. “Hi.” She frowned and shook her head like an etch-a-sketch. “Who are you?”

“Dirk Gently,” he said, leaning forward to hold out his hand. “I’m a detective.”

She glared at me so hard I took a step back and held up my hands. “Todd Brotzman, what did you do?”

“Nothing, Jeez! I’m just giving him a lift.”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but the back door of the bar opened behind her. “You guys ready?”

I grabbed my baby out of the back seat as Farah fluttered around. Dirk jumped out of her way and somehow still managed to be in the wrong place every time.

“See you out there,” I said.

“Todd, wait!” Farah put her hands on my shoulders. “How was…?”

I shook my head. Her face fell, and she squeezed my arm. “Give her time. You’ll get there.”

I nodded and pushed the little voice back that said she’d never forgive me, never love me again. I deserved it anyway.

They had a little stage at one end of the bar, a real class act. I ignored the crowd, murmuring quietly and… scarily alert, and plugged my guitar into the amp. She was still almost perfectly in tune, my old reliable.

I stepped up to the mic and brushed my finger over it just enough to hear it was on, but not to make that hateful popping. Farah gave me a nod from the left, just at the edge of the light, and Dirk gave me a double thumbs up. I smiled despite myself.

“Hey there,” I said.

Someone in the audience yelled ‘yo!’ and I felt my anxiety settle down fractionally.

“Thanks for coming tonight. This is for my friend and manager Farah, who puts up with more than is healthy.” I winked at her, and she groaned loudly and put her head in her hands. I grinned to myself and started picking the intro.

 _“She grew up with the children of the stars, with the Hollywood hills and the boulevard.”_ Farah leaned back, shaking her head, rolling her eyes. _“And from the stage I can tell that she can’t let go and she can’t relax.”_

I glanced at Dirk, and couldn’t look away. He was staring up at me, wide eyes, plump lips just parted, looking at _me_ like I was something special. It hit me like a hurricane - he was so beautiful, so sweet and made of sunshine, but he turned to the darkness to look at _me._

_“Everything’s gonna be alright. Rockabye, rockabye.”_

I tore my eyes away, afraid to look at him again, afraid to see all my own failures lining up to disappoint yet another person. Only when the song faded on some harmonics did I dare to glance up. He was clapping so hard his hands must’ve hurt. Even Farah was smiling at him, confused, amused. I couldn’t help smile myself as I moved onto the next song.

Any time Dirk wasn’t clapping, he was sitting in that same position, chin in his hands like a child listening to a bedtime story. By the time I sang the last song I was finding it hard to deny that I was performing just for him. I was soaking up his regard, letting the starry eyes wash over me, wash away the disappointment of seeing Amanda, and the reminder that I’m still the spawn of Satan to her.

_“Like falling rain, the days go by. Can’t kill the pain and you wonder why.”_

Dirk’s wide eyes pulled me into a depth of melancholy, that sadness he hid behind smiles and sunshine. _“Stay wild, my soul child. You’ll never know until you try.”_

The crowd cheered and whistled as I put my guitar on her stand and made my way over to their table. Farah stood and hugged me tight, thumping my back. “I’ll get you a beer. Awesome set, Todd.”

I turned to Dirk. His eyes were huge, like I was something amazing. “That was… that was… you are _fantastic!”_ He looked like he was coming in for a hug, but pulled up at the last moment, patting my shoulder so awkwardly I just found it endearing.

“Uh, thanks.”

“No, really, your voice is… is like a moonbeam. Hey, you said you weren’t very good - that was a lie - you _lied_. That was bad. Bad Todd!”

My mouth had fallen open, and I could feel my forehead doing that stupid crinkling thing, but I didn’t care. “A _moonbeam?”_

“Yes, Todd, a moonbeam. You know, like light in the darkness. Like hope. Now, I don’t want you lying to me any more, Mister.”

I swallowed. Blinked. My mouth fell open again.

I sounded like… hope?

“Hey! Todd Brotzman, you rocked it, man!”

There was a wild-looking redhead in my face, thumb-thick messy braids falling about her gleeful smile. I jumped slightly, nearly taking a step back.

“Tina, give the guy some space.” An older guy pulled her back, rolling her eyes, but patting her shoulder fondly. “Sorry about that. I’m Sherlock Hobbs, this is Tina Tevetino. That was a great gig.”

“Oh, thanks.” I hunted down my public smile for Farah’s sake and shook their hands.

“What happened to Mexican Funeral, though?” Tina asked loudly, swaying just a bit. “You guys were like, The Thing on the punk circuit, and now… I mean, don’t get me wrong, this is great, but it’s a bit of a change, ain’t it?”

“Tina, you’re being rude.”

“No, it’s fine,” I lied, my heart darkening. It was only as much as I deserved. “We just had a lot of personal things going on, we decided to go our separate ways.”

It was all the meaningless bullshit Farah had taught me to say. We couldn’t afford to tell the truth. Fitting, really. Sometimes I wanted to pour it all out, like I had to Amanda back in the hospital. Tell them everything, scare them all off. Where did I get off making money like this when I’d ruined everyone’s lives?

It’s not like she was listening, though. She’d turned to Dirk and was leaning into his personal space, telling him all about my punk career. I watched him as he leaned slightly away from her. With his innocent face and colourful clothes, he was the last person who should hang around me. I was the last person who should sound like hope to him.

I sounded like _hope_ to him.

It was all too much. I turned, about to stagger away, get my guitar in the back seat and make it an early night. Maybe skip the motel this time, just drive to the next gig and sleep in the car somewhere.

But there was Farah, holding out my beer, blocking my exit and introducing herself to Hobbs and Tina. And somehow I was sitting next to Dirk, and he was telling me some flighty bullshit I pretended not to find utterly adorable.

And then it was closing time. The others had long gone when Dirk and I stumbled out, and the beer was doing something to me, holding back the voice of reason. The one that reminds me I’m an asshole and shouldn’t be around decent people.

And Dirk had his hands tucked in the pocket of his ridiculous yellow jacket, and he was looking out over the car park and the anonymous, characterless part of Portland. And he looked so lost, God, it made my heart ache.

“I can give you a lift to San Fransisco bay,” I blurted.

He frowned. His lips formed a lush pout that I just… just wanted to _touch_. “Isn’t that on the other end of the country? It’s definitely not in… in _this_ state.” He frowned harder. “Is it?”

I laughed. “No, it’s like… twelve hours’ drive or something. I meant…” I shrugged and smiled out into the darkness. “My tour ends there. In like… three weeks. You could… come? The whole way.”

I turned to face him. “I can sing for you again. Give you… give you hope, or whatever.”

He looked at me the way he did when I was on that stage. When he smiled it was sad, and broken, and the broken parts of me saw something they recognised. Like we matched - no. Like we might fit together.


	3. Sunday Mornin' Coming Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, I woke up Sunday morning  
> With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt.  
> And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad,  
> So I had one more for dessert.  
> Then I fumbled in my closet through my clothes  
> And found my cleanest dirty shirt.  
> Then I washed my face and combed my hair  
> And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.
> 
> [[Johnny Cash](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ED5s1-Fe9FA) made this song famous (written by Kris Kristofferson), but here's the link to the [Shawn Mullins version](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pdHS6xuNmBE) too]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Todd attempts to self-sabotage...
> 
> OK I'm a bit stressy and weird about this story because it involves me projecting SO MUCH (this is basically a form of therapy for me...) I've had comments on other stories that I make my characters cry too much and some people find it a bit pathetic, so please keep in mind if crying boys aren't your jam, this may not be the story for you! And if you like angst and hurt/comfort, you've come to the right place! Thank you for humouring me lol!

I woke up Sunday morning with no way to hold my head that didn’t hurt. I stumbled, coffee-deprived out of my motel room, and was greeted by Dirk’s sunshine smile.

“Hi!” he said, waving like the dork he was. It was not adorable. At all.

“You know,” I said, swallowing down the part of me that wanted to wave back. “I was thinking about you coming on the tour. I… I don’t know if it’s such a good idea.”

“Oh.” His face dropped, all the happiness suddenly brittle. 

I took a deep breath and steeled myself. “It’s not that I don’t want you to come, it’s—“

“It’s fine, Todd,” he said. “I understand completely.”

“No, no, I don’t think you do, I just…” I groaned and scrubbed at my hair. “I’m… not a nice person, Dirk. Like, at all. I’m a complete asshole, actually, and I… I don’t want you stuck in a car with a complete asshole.”

“You know,” he said with a little frown. “You’re the first person to talk to me for more than half an hour in years. Actually, if you don’t count the scientists, who really didn’t exactly spend time with me of their own free will, you’re the first person to talk to me _at all_ in years. Anyway, my point is, you’re probably the closest thing I have to a friend.” He frowned, cocked his head on one side. “Can you call someone you’ve known less than a day a friend? This is what I mean, I’m terrible at the whole social interaction stuff. If you don’t _want_ me around any more I’ll completely understand, but don’t tell me you’re going to leave me here for my own good, OK?”

I gaped like a fish, not sure what part to address first. I settled on “OK.”

“OK…?”

I nodded and sighed. “Yeah, OK. Let’s get some breakfast from the drive through and go.”

He grinned so hard it spread crinkles across his whole face. “So I can come?”

“If you really want to.” I led him to the car and dragged the map out of the glove box. “Full disclosure? Farah can’t say no to people. So when she put a note up on the facebook page asking for places to visit on the tour, she spent like three days figuring out a way to play all the venues we had requested. It’s not the direct route.”

“I haven’t got anywhere to be.”

“So,” I said as we pulled out of the car park. “Scientists?”

“Scientists,” he nodded. “But I’d just like to say I’m definitely not with the CIA. Anymore.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Oh…kay. You were before, then?”

“Well, _with_ is a strong word, and implies a certain amount of choice. But,” he said, clapping his hands like he was about to give a pep talk. “Their funding got cut, so here I am.”

My brain was finding it difficult to look at this whole thing head on. It was a bit like looking at a welding torch, and at least as damaging. “You were… experimented on?”

“Ridiculous, isn’t it?” he laughed. It was paper thin. “They thought I was psychic, can you believe that?”

“Are you?” I half-joked.

“Definitely not. Unfortunately. Or maybe fortunately - I might not have got electrocuted so much, but they probably wouldn’t have let me go so easily.”

“That’s… God, Dirk, that’s horrible.”

“Is it?”

I glanced at him and squeezed his arm, the leather supple under my hand. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“That’s OK,” he said, his smile wide. “I’ve got a friend now. So how come you and Farah don’t travel together?”

I let him change the subject. “We tried,” I said. “She nearly strangled me, we’re just too different. She has to be early for everything and have her hotel room booked six weeks in advance, and get moving by nine am sharp every day. I’ll happily sleep in my car if I need to, and I take detours.”

“I love detours!”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

***

And it worked. We worked, somehow. I don’t know how, not like I’m an easy guy to get along with. It must’ve been all Dirk’s doing. Something about him made me more patient, more motivated. 

I still drove everywhere - Dirk took the wheel exactly one time and nearly killed us both, so I flat refused to acknowledge his driving license. So he was navigator. He’d flap his hands in excitement when he saw a sign for a viewpoint, or a maize maze, or, I don’t know, a freaking pencil museum. And I’d grumble and argue and go along with him literally every time.

But more than that, he made me honest. I found myself telling him everything. Maybe partly to make sure he knew what he was getting himself into with me, because he insisted on extolling my virtues. Every time he called me a good friend the guilt almost burned. 

I told him everything. How I’d faked being ill for money, how Amanda got diagnosed with the same thing. I came clean there and then in the hospital, but honestly, what was I expecting? A medal? The damage had already been done. And I’d been so tempted to carry on with the lie.

“But you didn’t,” said Dirk, his too-kind eyes boring a hole in the side of my head as we drove a winding road through Payette national forest.

I kept my eyes on the road, holding back the stinging ache. “It was too late, though, that’s the point. I stuck around a bit, trying to make money for her…”

It was too much. I pulled off and stumbled out of the car. The fir trees crowding around the road were blurring, and I stopped into their shade, the smell of their resin surrounding me and clearing my throat. I leant against a fallen log.

It wasn’t long before slow footsteps caught up with me. I pulled my denim jacket tight around me, tucked my thumbs into the holes I’d worn in the sleeves. “You know,” I said, “last time I was in this area I met a guy who’d found this old World War II plane wreck in this forest. I don’t know where. It’s been there nearly eighty years. Imagine that.”

Dirk didn't say anything. He sat on the log, carefully, so that he didn’t wobble and fall off. Like he often did, the gangly, clumsy thing.

I took a deep breath. “They wouldn’t take my money,” I said. My voice broke, and I was so ashamed of crying about this when _I_ was the bad guy. I had to press my face into my hands. I couldn’t seem to hold it back any more, not for anything. Not even for Dirk’s tentative hand on my back. The only thing stopping me from throwing myself into his arms like a hurt child was the anger of the universe, because I _didn’t deserve_ anyone’s compassion, and certainly not Dirk’s.

At last I gathered a bit of self-control. I told him the rest of it. How I’d stolen all the band’s stuff and sold it. Ended all our dreams. And still Amanda wouldn’t take my money. Still my parents said no. My mom said she’d pray for me, but she wouldn’t let me try to make amends. I sent the cash back to my bandmates. I don’t know if they ever knew it was me, they certainly never pressed charges. They should have.

“That’s how I ended up here,” I said. I was staring out at the forest, and Dirk’s hand was resting on my shoulder. “I ran away. I wasn’t planning on this job, I just… I couldn’t leave my guitar behind. Anyway, I did some busking, played a few gigs in exchange for food and drink. And then Farah met me in LA and decided I needed a manager.” 

I smiled up at Dirk. “My parents accept my money now, they say it’s honestly earned. So it’s OK. But… it’s really not OK. This is who I am. I lie and cheat and steal and I’m a selfish jerk. I should’ve tried harder to tell you before, and I’m sorry about that.”

“Look,” he said, his lips pursing up in a very distracting way. “You’ve done some bad things, but you’re trying to make them better. You’re not a jerk. You’re the only person who’s ever come close to calling me a friend and—“

“Of course you’re my friend,” I said, my head snapping up. “Dirk, you’re one of the only people whose company I can stand, you’re definitely a… a friend.”

His smile was the sweetest thing I’d ever seen. He practically shimmered, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away, in awe of him.

“They’ll see,” he said. “Give them time and they’ll see you like I do.”

He slipped off the log and walked up the slope to the car before I could grab at him, beg to know what it was that he could possibly see in me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep forgetting! Come hang out on Tumblr with me at [Gold-From-Straw](https://gold-from-straw.tumblr.com/) if you like ^_^ Thank you so much for reading!


	4. The Gulf of Mexico

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Gulf of Mexico](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GapJfZSYbFo)
> 
> And she looks back and she daydreams   
> About things and people she's never   
> Seen just to keep from being blue. And   
> She gets home about a quarter to four   
> And drives her brother  
> To the liquor store on ocean avenue. 
> 
> And I'm parked on the state line on this   
> Cold November day. And pretty soon I'll   
> Be a drivin fool somewhere down this   
> Lost highway.
> 
> Then I hear a voice from   
> My soul's core sayin' "freedom's just a   
> Metaphor, you got nowhere to go"  
> And the rain pours down like a   
> Holy waterfall over the Gulf of Mexico   
> Over the Gulf of Mexico

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for homophobia, homophobic language, and violence. On the plus side, here's a little cameo from non-magical Silas and Panto ^_^ I chose the title because I thought it suited Silas, imagining him stuck in some little town dealing with his responsibilities and his mum and feeling empty and lost inside... until Panto comes into his life and sweeps him off his feet, and takes him travelling to dance and watch grumpy little musicians in a crappy bar far away from home...

The tour continued. I played dives and cafes, snooker bars where nobody listened, a nightclub that got all the levels wrong and cut my set short, and bars where people gathered close to hear. I had people calling out requests, a bottle thrown at me, and once, even, someone booking me to play their wedding.

Through all of them, Dirk watched me on stage, his chin in his hands and a little smile curling the edges of his lips, and I spiralled down into him, tangling our lives together so close that after just a week I couldn’t imagine trying to take them apart.

I dragged my eyes away from him one Friday night, watched the two men dancing at the front of the crowd instead. They made me smile almost more than Dirk did, their heads pressed close as they swayed. The taller one had dyed pink hair and a cowboy hat dangling down his back, and he closed his eyes, pressing his nose against his lover’s, completely anchored in each other. It made my chest ache to watch them, to watch the dark haired guy wrap his arms tight around pink-hair’s waist and sigh into his shoulder as they danced.

I was pleased when they came over after the gig ended. I shook their hands, took their names, Panto and Silas, and thanked them for coming. Congratulated Silas on the shiny band on his left ring finger. Would have asked them to join us for a drink if some asshole hadn’t raised his voice behind me.

“Fucking faggots everywhere, is this a gay bar suddenly?”

I thought they were heckling Panto and Silas, and I turned with my hackles up. But it was worse.

“I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

“Don’t touch me, you piece of shit. Ugh!”

“There’s no need to be rude,” said Dirk, looking mildly offended, and not nearly scared enough of the dick looming over him, pushing him in the centre of his chest.

I saw red. I think I vaulted a chair getting over to him to push in between them. “Hey, watch your mouth, asshole.”

“Well, shit, boys, we’ve found the little wife in this relationship,” he laughed. 

I rolled my eyes, my lip curling in disgust. “C’mon, Dirk, let’s get out of here.”

“Yeah, take your pillow biter,” Dickhead said. Then he jerked towards Dirk, like he was about to hit him. Dirk flinched, his head ducked down, his hands coming out to protect himself. I turned around and punched Dickhead so hard he fell backwards over a bar stool.

Well, of course, his asshole friends didn’t stand on ceremony. One went low, trying to tackle me to the ground, but he misjudged just how short I am, and I kneed him in the face. Another guy smashed a bottle on the bar. It’s hard to get that right. All it gave him was a handful of broken glass. It would’ve been funny if Dirk hadn’t yelped and clutched at his face. I felt rage flood my veins and waded in with haymakers left and right. Panto joined at one point, putting people down with terrifying efficiency.

It was over in about five minutes. The whole lot of us were thrown out into the car park. I don’t know how Farah managed to convince the manager to give me my guitar back and not press charges. She was not pleased with me. I barely noticed, because Dirk’s face was bleeding.

“They look OK,” said Silas, turning his face here and there. 

“I’m gonna get some band-aids.”

I turned, but Farah put her hand on my chest. She looked at me, still vibrating with tension, then back at Dirk. Then back at me. “Anything you want to tell me?”

“They called him a faggot.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’ve seen you shrug off worse.”

I knew my jaw was jutting out like a child. “Yeah, but…”

“Ah,” she said, and I did not like the look of that knowing smirk. She didn’t know anything, damnit. “OK, Todd, just… don’t break a finger next time, yeah?”

“I know how to throw a proper punch, Farah!”

She rolled her eyes and shoved my guitar at my chest. “I’m off to bed, don’t stay up too late, OK?”

“Yes Mom.” She smacked my arm.

“Go back to your damsel in distress, Mr knight in shining armour.”

“I’m not a knight! And Dirk’s not a damsel in distress! Farah!” But she’d already driven off, cackling like the evil witch she was. I had to satisfy myself with grumbling on my way back to the others.

“Ah, Todd,” said Dirk, and smiled at me. “Ow.”

I snorted and shook my head. “Don’t smile, asshole, it’ll pull the cuts. We need to get you cleaned up and put some band-aids on those.”

“If you don’t think it’s too presumptuous, you’re welcome to come over to ours and raid our first-aid kit,” said Silas, gesturing behind him with his thumb. Panto nodded.

I glanced at Dirk, who was already nodding like the trusting, adorable idiot he was. “Yeah, OK. Thanks, guys. And, uh… I’m sorry we got you thrown out of there.”

Panto laughed. “We only came to see you play. It’s really no loss.”

I rubbed the back of my head and pretended that didn’t make me blush like some teenage girl. Dirk was already trotting along beside Silas, deep in conversation about something. Panto smiled at me. “They’re quite similar, aren’t they. The way they look at the world.”

I cocked my head on one side. “Yeah, I guess I can see that. Both… just really sweet.”

“How did we get so lucky?” he asked, shaking his head.

I smiled and nodded, then caught myself. “Oh! Uh, I’m not… we’re not…”

“Oh,” he said. “I see.”

“Yeah.” I winced and rubbed the back of my head again.

Panto just smiled at me, then shook his keys out and gestured to a set of stairs leading to a little apartment over a grocery store. “Beer, anyone?”

Silas fetched his first aid kit and I sat on the table opposite Dirk, gripping his chin and turning his face from side to side. “You didn’t have to do that, you know,” he said softly.

I cleaned the dried blood away with a bit of hydrogen peroxide, then stuck some acid pink band-aids over the deeper cuts. “Yes, I did. Asshole needed to learn not to use such foul fucking language.” Dirk giggled. “Stay still, would you?”

“Sorry. These are very pink.”

Silas smiled. “I thought they matched Panto’s hair.”

Panto nudged him and put a bottle by my foot. I cupped Dirk’s cheeks and turned his face here and there to check he was OK, before realising that I’d been thinking about the feeling of his skin under my fingers for far too long, and whipping them back. “Done.”

Dirk half-smiled at me from under his fringe and brushed his fingers over the band-aids. I was torn between feeling warm and melty at the look and still wanting to kill the guy who’d hurt him. Instead, I sat back on a chair with my beer, and listened.


	5. Patrick's Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Patrick's Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UcUnJs5l6ys)
> 
> I had a dream I was in school  
> Reading your autograph  
> Pages of green in seventh grade now like an epitaph   
> Alone in your room, with an artist inside of you  
> You died way too soon, but I can still feel you   
> Warm in a circle of friends, how have you all been  
> We'd never die, just go through hell and re-group again  
> So button it down, so the wind won't blow it all away  
> And pass it around  
> Like champagne on a holiday  
> Pass it around  
> There's a lot of that to go around

I leaned back against the headboard of the lumpy bed in the twin room and tuned my guitar. Dirk rolled over on the other bed, his hands folded under his cheek. “How do you write songs?” he asked. “Where do you get your ideas from?”

“I guess just… the people we talk to, you know? Something about this job, it’s like it encourages people to tell you stuff.” I thought for a moment, then sang, a few half-formed chords wandering about underneath. _“I hear a voice from my soul’s core saying freedom’s just a metaphor, you got nowhere to go.”_

Dirk’s eyes lit up. “That’s something Silas said the other night!”

I nodded and smiled. “Yeah, he got chatty after a drink or two, didn’t he?”

“Chatty and eloquent. I mean, you’ve added to it, made it rhyme, but he was the one who said he used to think freedom was a metaphor before Panto rescued him.” He rolled over onto his stomach and leaned his chin on his folded hands. It made him look up at me, his forehead wrinkling, big eyes wide, like a labrador.

I laughed. “Rescued him, yeah, that’s a good one. I can imagine him with a sword.” I frowned down at the strings. “You don’t think it’s cheating, do you? Like… I’m stealing their stories?”

He shook his head vigorously. “You put the words together, you make the music. Without you, their stories would end with them.”

“Without them, I wouldn’t have any stories,” I pointed out.

“Exactly,” he said, leaning up on his elbows and pointing at me. “It’s like symbiosis, it’s all… connected. You’re a holistic musician.”

“Holistic?”

“Yes, you know, the interconnectedness of all things.”

I laughed and played another half-done verse of Silas’ song, and tried not to think about the way Dirk shone in the dingy room.

***

It was becoming hard to hide, the way I would have done anything for him. We were almost half-way through the tour, and every day he made me laugh, made me roll my eyes, made me see the world as something beautiful.

We pulled off one of our many detours and Dirk kicked his shoes off to wade into a river. “Come on in!” he yelled to me when I sat on the bank to laugh at him.

“Not a chance,” I called. “You’re already shivering.”

And I wanted to not miss a moment of him, the light reflecting off the ripples, making his auburn hair shimmer. He ducked down suddenly and snatched something out of the water. “Todd, look!”

“What is it?”

He waded back to me and climbed out, dropping a cold rock into my hand. I turned it over to catch the light and glisten. 

“It’s a heart,” he said, turning it so that the pointed end was facing downwards.

“I dunno, more like a triangle,” I teased, nudging his shoulder.

He rolled his eyes and got back to his feet, sloshing out into the water and shouting about the social structure of fish or something.

I looked back at the rock, smoothed over by the stream. It was a rusty red with a bolt of yellow running through it. Like it had broken once, and been stitched back together by something light and pure. I looked up at Dirk. He was bent over, his ass in the air and his pant-cuffs skimming the water where he hadn’t rolled them up enough.

I pushed the heart shaped rock into my pocket, and felt its weight tug at me.

***

I played the Gulf of Mexico that night, the song I’d written for Silas and Panto. Dirk clapped hard and wiped his eyes, and I wished I could hold him, dance with him like Silas and Panto. Press our foreheads together and forget the rest of the world.

“That was perfect,” he said, flapping his hands. “I should have got their numbers, I could have sent them a video.”

“You don’t have a phone.”

“Farah could have sent them a video.”

Farah smiled and waved her phone at him. “I’ll tag them in the video on Facebook if you help me find them on the followers list.”

“Oh, Farah, that’s perfect!” he said, making grabby hands.

She glanced at the time and pulled the phone out of his reach. “I can’t tonight. You remember Tina and Hobbs? They live near the next venue, I’m… uh…” she blushed. “They’ve invited me to stay a couple of nights.”

I grinned and nudged her shoulder. “Nice.”

“Shut up," she replied, and slapped me on the back of the head. “It’s not like that. But I want to get going now, is it OK if I miss the second half of the set?”

“Of course, dummy,” I said. “Go have fun, God, if they can encourage _you_ to be more spontaneous…”

She just shook her head and aimed another smack, which I dodged. “Be good,” she warned. “Bye, Dirk.”

“Oh, so I don’t get a goodbye, just a warning?”

She grinned and flipped me the bird over her shoulder, which I returned. Dirk smiled fondly between us. When I got back on stage I was feeling untouchable.

I don’t know why I chose to sing Patrick’s Song. I hadn’t played it for years, it could make me feel so raw. But today, I was was happy. Maybe I felt, with a foundation like this, I could handle remembering him, feel more sweet than bitter.

_“We’d never die, just go through hell and regroup again. So button it down so the wind won’t blow it all away, and pass it around like champagne on a holiday.”_

When I opened my eyes, sang the last couple of bars, Dirk was crying. I nearly leaped off the stage right there to go to him, wipe his tears away and kiss him better. I’d never play that song again if it hurt him like this.

“I’m sorry,” I said later as we walked back to the motel. “Are you OK?”

“Of course!” he said. By the time the set had ended he’d long dried his own tears, and now his face was a mask of determined cheer. “Was he a friend?”

“Patrick? Yeah, we went to school together. He was…” I swallowed the truth, because I’m a coward. “He was a friend.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, the formal words sounding so serious. They meant more from him than from any other person on earth.

“It was a long time ago,” I said, shaking my head. He nodded and smiled, but I was worried, the way he was hiding himself again. It was like we were back on those cliffs, only this time I wasn’t even close to leaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERY END-NOTE!  
> Fair warning, this little, weird trigger that even Dirk doesn't understand, sends him off into a really bad headspace. I'm writing this story because I'm feeling pretty bloody awful myself and little, silly things trigger me (I never know what until it happens tbh!), but I don't want anyone's health to suffer. Todd will care for Dirk - this is my way of going 'here's what I'd love someone to do for me', so there's a LOT of loving comfort as well as hurt, but if you think reading about a depressive episode will trigger you, please feel free to not read until chapter 9? That one's pure fluff ;)


	6. Lullaby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Shawn Mullins - Lullaby](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hG9C0VwruXE)
> 
> Everything's gonna be all right  
> Rockabye, rockabye  
> Everything's gonna be all right  
> Rockabye, rockabye  
> Rockabye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dirk's not doing well. Luckily he's got people who love him now. Please note that Todd is THE MOST unreliable narrator, and exceptionally self-loathing, basically don't trust what he says about himself. He'll get his TLC in the end...

The next day I woke first. I got dressed, got us breakfast, got packed, and he never moved. I packed his stuff. Checked my watch. Did a grocery run. Still he lay in bed, facing the wall.

At last I went round and knelt next to him. His eyes were open and dull. He focused on me with an effort, and some part of me recognised it, like information clicking into place.

“Oh, Dirk.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

I shook my head. “Can you walk? You can lie in the back seat, sleep as much as you need.”

He closed his eyes, exhausted. I stroked his hair, silky strands that fell back across his forehead. His eyes were shadowed and I wondered if he’d really slept or just lay there, perfectly still, all night.

I didn’t think I could carry him, though I wanted to. I wanted to wrap him up and tuck my hands under his knees, under his shoulders, and lift him through whatever shit was attacking his heart and soul. Instead I left him in bed and went to rearrange our luggage, bought a couple of blankets from the store. I was chewing my lip, trying to decide whether to call Farah and cancel the next show, or try and tempt him into the car somehow, when he shuffled out.

His shoulders were rounded, his head hung low. I rushed over and guided him into the back seat like he had the flu, lay him down and covered him with one of the blankets. The other made a good pillow. 

“You don’t have to,” he whispered. I just stroked his hair and pulled the blanket right up to his ears. It’s what I’d always wanted when I felt the quicksand pulling at my limbs. Dirk didn’t deserve to feel that way, but the least I could do was make it as comfortable as possible. It was my fault he’d been triggered into this, anyway.

I fucking hated myself.

I climbed into the drivers seat and looked back at him. He’d pulled the blanket right over his head, so I rubbed his shoulder through the material and started the engine.

Tina, Hobbs and Farah met me inside the venue, in a little town called Bergsberg, Montana. Tina whooped and hugged me, Hobbs and Farah ambling over at a more sedate pace.

“Where’s Dirk?” asked Farah.

“Uh, sleeping?” 

“You don’t sound very sure about that,” she said, her eyes narrowing.

I sighed and rubbed my forehead, trying to look busy with the equipment. But one electro-acoustic guitar doesn’t need much work. Hobbs, bless his heart, dragged Tina off to the bar.

“What’s going on?” Farah demanded. It sounded an awful lot like ‘what did you do’, which, while yeah, it _was_ my fault, did she have to assume every time?

“Nothing,” I snapped. I took another deep breath to calm down. “Look, he’s… not doing great. I think it’s like some sort of depressive episode? He’s barely verbal, barely moving.”

Her face softened at once. “Oh, God, that’s…” she frowned and shook her head. “How are you dealing with it?”

“Just giving him water and trying to get him to eat. Covering him with blankets, you know?” I shrugged. “I can’t pull him out of it, I know that much, but I’ll be there.”

She nodded. “Of course. But how are _you?”_

“I’m fine?” I laughed at her shortly. “I’m not the one who can barely move.”

She opened her mouth, then sighed and shut it again. “OK, Todd. Just… let me know if you need anything, OK?”

I looked up at her, soft black eyes looking so painfully compassionate, and I just grabbed her and hugged her tight, ignoring her indignant squawk of “hey! OK, we’re… doing this then.”

“Thanks, Farah,” I said. “You’re the best.”

“Yep,” she said, voice tight with tension and awkwardness, so I let her go. 

“Sorry.”

“Nope. S’fine.”

“I just… thanks.”

“Go play music, asshole.”

***

Dirk stirred under his blanket when I got back to the car. “Hey," I said softly, putting the guitar in the front passenger footwell.

“Did I miss your gig?” he asked, glancing out at the night sky.

“Yeah, Tina and Hobbs say hi.”

He closed his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing in the world to be sorry for,” I said firmly. “Take your time, do what you need, OK?”

“I don’t know why I’m like this,” he whispered. His voice slurred with exhaustion, and my heart ached as tears started seeping out from his eyelids. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

I leaned over and stroked the hair off his forehead. “It’s just… depression is a bitch, Dirk. But this is just where you are right now, a part of you needs this.”

“Why?” he asked. “Why am I so weak? I felt sad about _your_ song, about _your_ friend who died - I’ve never _had_ a friend die, and it’s so selfish of me to get like this when… when other people have it much worse, I’m just so pathetic—“

“Dirk! Hey, no, that’s not how it works!” But he curled away from my hand and sobbed into the seat. “Dirk, you’ve… you’ve been through so much. This is allowed. You… you spent your life in government experimentation, and that’s _awful!”_

“I n-never felt like - like this back then,” he gulped.

I rubbed his shoulder and frowned. “Maybe you just couldn’t _let_ yourself feel like that then.” Thoughts sprang into my head of all the times I’d wanted to shut myself in a closet and hide from the world but couldn’t let myself, either because of gigs or work or college - but I pushed that away and stamped it down. How dare I think about my own half-assed problems when they were nothing like his? Just Todd being a self-centred asshole as usual. I squeezed his arm and made myself give everything to him. “You know, you can now. You’re _safe_ now. It’s OK.”

I carried on talking utter rubbish, stroking his shoulder or his back. Finally when his tears ran dry and he started snoring softly I turned the key in the ignition and drove.

I didn't bother with a motel. I wouldn’t have wanted to wake Dirk up to go inside anyway. I pulled over when I got tired, tipped my seat back so it hovered just above Dirk’s legs, and used some of my data googling ‘what to do when your friend has depression.’ Eventually I fell asleep.

***

I woke him up next morning. Made him go to a rest stop bathroom, put his toothbrush in his hand and made him change into pyjamas when I saw the zipper mark on his cheek, where his jacket had slipped up. He looked at me, grief stricken, and mumbled that he was so sorry, that I should leave him there, I’d be late. I tried to ignore how even just the thought broke me.

That evening, leaning over into the back seat, I asked him if he wanted to come to my gig. He blinked and shook his head, just slightly, as if he was afraid I might start screaming at him. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be.” I stroked his head. “You need rest.”

“I’m such a useless friend,” he said. “I’m nothing but trouble. You don’t have to be so nice to me.”

I gave him a half smile. “I know I don’t, sweetheart. I’ll be back in a bit, OK?”

I was halfway to the door when I realised I’d called him sweetheart.

Ice flooded my veins and I had to freeze, face in my hands as I let the horror swamp me. What the fuck was I doing? He was ill and I was… what, playing _house?_ “I am such an asshole,” I hissed, and stomped into the bar.

It was a shitty gig. I played so fucking blandly I can’t believe anyone stayed conscious. I didn’t even look at Farah afterwards, just slumped at the bar and ordered a Budweiser.

She looked at me like she was counting backwards from a hundred, then sat on the stool next to me. I waited for her to call me out on my behaviour. 

“Are you OK?”

I closed my eyes and nodded.

“How’s Dirk?”

I slumped and pressed my head against the bar. She was definitely too nice to me. Part of me was desperately relieved to be let off the hook, another, more self-destructive part, cried out to her not to let me get away with this shit all the time.

“He’s not great,” I said into the bar. “He’s just…” I groaned and sat up. “He keeps saying what an awful person he is, how he doesn’t deserve me - _me!_ He… how can he think that about himself, Farah? He’s… he’s sunshine and kindness and I just… I can’t bear to hear him hate himself — _what?”_

She was laughing. I was about to get my hackles up, but she had tears in her eyes and was shaking her head sadly. “That’s… literally how you talk about yourself, Todd. All the time.”

“What?”

“You hate yourself, you think you don’t deserve anything good. You call yourself an asshole _all the time.”_

I deflated. “Well… yeah. But… but it’s not… true for him.” I grimaced, knowing how dumb that sounded. I tangled the fingers of my left hand in my hair. “How do I help him, Farah?”

She hesitated, then put her hand on my shoulder. “You can’t pull him out of the swamp. But you can keep him breathing. And… be there when he gets himself out.”

I huffed. “How attached are you to that metaphor?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ve got a couple of days without gigs. Why don’t you go up into the mountains, chill out, let Dirk rest somewhere pretty. It’ll do you both the world of good. And… look after yourself too, OK? Take some time out, call me if you need to.” She held my head. “Can I?”

I nodded and she kissed my temple. “He’ll be OK. And… if he’s not, we’ll get him help.”

I smiled as she left, took a deep breath, and opened another google search.


	7. And On A Rainy Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [And On A Rainy Night](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mIFxTCnMmxw)
> 
> These streets were bound to cross  
> Maybe lifetimes ago   
> Whenever innocence is lost   
> We got a long way to go   
> We got a long way
> 
> Watch the firelight throw   
> Shadows across the room 
> 
> And on a rainy night   
> Two lovers held each other tight  
> In the moonlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This song is one of my all time favs, I hope you listen to it, it's incredibly beautiful!

I pulled up to the little log cabin in Zion early the next morning. It was a fixer-upper, leaks in the bathroom and cracked window panes in the living area. But the old guy who booked me on the phone assured me that the chimney was clear and the woodpile was stacked. 

The bedroom was a disaster, though. I opened the door, saw some critter escape out the window, and closed the door again. Good thing the couch was big. 

I brought all our stuff in. Dirk was actually sleeping for real so I left him to it and walked a little way along the trail behind the cabin. The scrub opened up within moments, and I dropped onto a rock, staring at the huge sandstone peaks catching the early morning light. Dirk would have loved it here, if he’d been feeling himself.

He was staring dully up at the sky when I finally walked back. I don't know how long he'd been awake. “Hey,” I said.

He flickered a tiny smile, like a spark. It gave me dangerous amounts of hope. “Where are we?”

“Zion national park, Utah. We’ve got a rickety shack masquerading as a cabin, wanna come in?”

“Why are you so kind to me?”

“I thought I’d try something new.”

He didn’t laugh. He just looked at me, hollow and despairing. “How long will I be like this?” he asked in a whisper. “Am I going to be like this forever?”

I climbed back into the drivers seat to lean over and stroke his hair. “It’s not gonna be forever,” I promised, taking hope from the chat rooms and the websites. “You’ll get better.”

He closed his eyes, then squeezed them tight as tears started to fall. “How long?”

“I… I don’t know, Dirk,” I said, my heart breaking. “It’s different for everyone.”

“Why don’t you just leave, then?” he sobbed, and the loudness made me jump. “Why are you _still here_ , I don’t understand! Stop making me hope, stop making… stop making me _test_ you. Just go!”

“I… I’m not _leaving,”_ I stuttered.

“Why not? _Why not?_ ” he howled. “I don’t know… I don’t remember being me and you’re just waiting for me to be OK and I _don’t know!_ Just leave me alone!”

“Dirk!” I snapped. Wiped my cheeks.

“Leave me alone!”

“Fine, asshole,” I yelled. I shoved myself out of the car, paced up and down. My fists clenched, beating at my own head. Dirk sobbed in the back seat like his body was being taken apart.

I took deep breaths. I closed my eyes, pressed the heels of my hands against them and cried.

Then I stamped back to the car. “I’m going for a walk,” I snapped, my voice wobbling way too much. “I’m coming back in half an hour and I will get you into that fucking cabin and you will fucking eat something. And… and drink. Something. I’m not…” I cleared my throat, trying to speak around the constriction. “I’m not _fucking_ leaving you, Dirk. Just… get that into your head, OK?”

I didn’t go far. I’m an asshole, not an idiot.

I did cry though. A lot. I sat on a rock and curled up into a little ball like a pillbug and fucking _cried._

I could feel the edges of his despair hanging around me like it was a palpable thing, the heavy weight hanging off every limb. My body seemed to be taking his pain into myself, appropriating it or some shit. Wanting to just stay out there in the wild, let the days pass while I calcified, never had to worry about my sins, my family, my failure. Wanting everything to just _end_ , to stop. 

I was so angry with myself for yelling at Dirk instead of staying calm. God, I was the last person who should be caring for someone else, least of all someone as deserving as him. But in the end, I was all he had. 

I let myself have a few more minutes just breathing the chilly morning air. Then I climbed to my feet, pushing through treacle, wiped my face on my sleeve, and walked back to the car.

“You came back,” he whispered when he saw me. His eyes, already red and sore, watered again.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m sorry I got angry.”

He just shuddered with sobs and pulled his blanket over his head. “I’m sorry, Todd,” he cried. “I can’t get better… I’m trying, I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, hey, none of that.” I touched his fingertips where they peeked out of the blanket and tugged the cloth gently. When he didn’t put up any resistance pulled it down to expose his eyes, and held his gaze firmly. “There’s no time limit, Dirk,” I said. “We’ll stay here a couple of days, then we’ll move on to the next gig in Nevada. You can spend every day lying in a blanket cocoon, I’ll poke you every couple of hours to drink and go to the bathroom, whatever. And one day… it’ll feel like taking a lead weight off your chest. Slow or fast, whatever.”

“Why?” he whispered.

I opened my mouth and shut it again. I shrugged. “Hey, look,” I said instead, and took the heart shaped stone out of my pocket. My thumb rubbed the side, like it always did every time I touched it. “Remember this? You said it looked like a heart, huh? Well,” I showed him the yellow mark running across it. “Sometimes… hearts just need fixing. I dunno.” I laughed at myself and pressed it into his hands. “Just… take the damn rock and get up. You need some water.”

He followed me into the cabin and I handed him a pre-packaged sandwich and a drink from the last 7-11. He slumped onto the sofa, still clutching the rock and rubbing it with his thumb the same way I liked to. “Why am I still so tired?” he asked, staring at the sandwich. “I’ve done nothing but sleep.”

“I dunno, I guess it’s like having the flu. You just… need what you need.”

I finished my food and lit a fire in the grate while Dirk struggled through a few bites. “C’mon,” I said, patting my lap as I sat back down. “Lie here. Watch the fire. Sleep if you want.”

He rested his head carefully on my knee, like he was worried it’d be too heavy. “Will you sing to me, please?”

“Uh…” I bit my lip. I couldn’t play the guitar like this but… “OK.”

I was self-conscious to start with, singing quietly, almost under my breath. Dirk sighed and relaxed, and it made me loosen up a bit too.

_“Sixteen years of bein’ bored, window’s open, forget the door. Hope there’s some gas in the old man’s Ford 'cause I’m outta here.”_

“What was that one about?” he asked softly as I hummed a bit of an outro.

“Girl I met a couple of years ago, Bart. Her dad was a priest down in Mississippi, but… like, he was a real bastard. Real abusive. She and her friend Ken ran away together the day after she turned sixteen, a few years before I met them.” I laughed. “I don’t know how they were earning their meals, didn’t dare ask. They were still living in that same old Ford pickup.”

He was quiet for a long time, and I was wondering whether to sing something else when “why didn’t she get… like this? Why am I like this when I never had to deal with anything that bad?”

His voice was quiet, exhausted, like there was nothing under his ribs and he was imploding. I started running my fingers through his greasy hair, teasing out the knots. “Don’t think that way?” I begged. “It’s not a competition. And anyway, Dirk, you’ve been through so much awful stuff! Of course you need to process it.”

“But why now? Why when everything’s finally going well? I’ve got a… a _friend_ for the first time and… and _now_ is when I get… like this?”

I wrapped my arms tight around him and pressed my head against his shoulder. “Maybe it’s because you’re safe, sweetheart,” I said, willing him to hear me, all of him right through to the injured core. “You needed it for a long time, and now your body knows it can feel all this hurt. It’s the perfect time, really.” I turned my head to lay my cheek on his arm. “I can get you in the car and go to my next gig, I’ve got time to make sure you eat. You can take that time.”

“That’s not fair.”

I sighed, frustrated. “What’s not fair is that I’ve screwed everyone in my life, everyone I cared for, and I still have people who care for me while you… you’re the kindest, sweetest person I’ve ever met and all you get is _me?_ And Farah - thank God for Farah.”

“Don’t call yourself an arsehole,” he said, patting my hand. His voice slurred and trailed off, and I watched his breaths come deep and even as he slept. I sat back and played with his hair, watched the firelight throw shadows across the room, as a soft rain started to fall.


	8. Shimmer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Shimmer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9doqLZdSQfQ)
> 
> He's born to shimmer, he's born to shine  
> He's born to radiate  
> He's born to live, he's born to love  
> But we'll teach him how to hate  
> True love it is a rock  
> Smoothed over by a stream  
> No ticking of a clock  
> Truly measures what that means

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: There is discussion/worry that Dirk might hurt himself right at the beginning of this chapter - please skip it if that's something that will upset or trigger you, I know how it is! I've marked the end of the discussion with ^^^^^ so if you scroll down until that point you'll miss any mentions of it. It is completely unfounded, but Farah's anxiety will take her down the worst possible path, so she got worried. After that I promise it's pure fluff. And Dirk is also feeling a little better!

I woke up with a crick in my neck, alone on the couch. I looked around in a panic until I heard the shower running, and my eyebrows shot into my hair.

“Dirk decided to have a shower by himself,” I texted Farah. “Tell me not to get my hopes up.”

She phoned me straight away. “Are you sure he’s… like, showering?”

“Morning to you too, Farah.”

“I’m serious, Todd, go check.”

“Check what? I can hear the water running.”

She was quiet for a moment. She kept making these noises like she was taking a breath to speak, or opening and closing her mouth. 

“What, Farah?” I snapped eventually.

“Check he hasn’t cut his wrists,” she blurted.

Adrenaline flooded my body and I stumbled off the couch, falling over the bags. I was still scrambling to get up when Dirk himself came out in just a towel. “Todd?”

I looked from arm to arm, still breathing too fast. When I saw he was OK I slumped back and rubbed my elbow, which was still smarting from falling on it. “Nothing… s’okay. Just… just a bad dream. You OK?”

He nodded and rubbed his eyes, and I was suddenly very aware that he was half naked and dripping wet in front of me, and he was _ripped_. I blinked and tried to unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth. This was just too many wild emotions so early in the morning. “I… I’m gonna… shower.”

He nodded again and slouched over to the couch. I grabbed my phone, retreated into the draughty bathroom and slumped on the side of the bath.

“I hate you,” I hissed at Farah after calling her back. “You nearly gave me a fucking heart attack.”

“What? Is he OK?”

“He’s fine. He’s _clean_. Because he was in the _fucking_ shower. Who the hell hears ‘shower’ and jumps straight to ‘suicide’?”

“Someone whose friend is having a major depressive episode,” she snapped.

I slumped and rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Yeah… yeah, OK. I should’ve… I should’ve thought of it myself.”

^^^^^

“How are you doing?” she asked, her voice softening.

“Me? I’m fine, I’m… you know. My usual self.”

“Lowkey anxiety and depression, then,” she said.

“Ha fucking ha.”

“Not… actually joking. OK. Look, call me if you need anything, yeah?”

“OK,” I said, yawning. “Thanks, Farah.”

Dirk was dozing on the sofa when I came back out after my own shower, goosebumps popping up on his (muscular! holy shit!) forearms. I draped a blanket over him and dried his hair with my towel. He blinked up at me blearily and smiled, but didn’t move. 

I made a cup of coffee and sat on the trail out back to drink it. When I came in, Dirk was stirring. “You want some eggs?” I asked. I tried to keep the hope out of my voice, but it flared a little as he sat up. 

He frowned into space. “Maybe… some toast?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll go get dressed.”

I nodded and watched him go. It was the first time in nearly five days he’d done anything self-care related without me pushing him, and I pressed my hand against my sternum, trying not to let the hope get its claws into me.

He slumped on a kitchen chair, nibbled at his toast and drank his tea. “It’s beautiful outside,” I said. “Want me to take some pictures?”

He blinked heavy eyelids at his toast. “I think… I want to come and look…”

“That’s great,” I said. “How about you rest a bit more and we’ll go together in an hour or two?”

He looked up at me, big eyes wide and a little afraid. “What if I can’t?”

“Then we won’t,” I shrugged. “And if you really want to go now, then we will. But just because you feel a little better doesn’t mean you have to be a hundred percent right away. You’ve done great already this morning, I’m proud of you.”

He smiled. “I am too.” Then he snorted and poked at the discarded crusts of his toast. “Proud of a shower and getting dressed, honestly.”

“Don’t knock it,” I said. “If you had the flu you’d have to take your recovery slow too.”

“You know,” he said softly, staring at nothing on the table. “I think I have felt like this before. I remember… not getting out of bed some mornings, I just… I just couldn’t. What was the point?” His hands clenched. “They thought I was being rebellious. They… they punished me.”

I put my hand over his and squeezed it. “That’s not OK, Dirk, you know that, right? You’re allowed to feel like this.”

He nodded and wiped tears away before they fell. “I know that now.” He smiled up at me, so sweet it clenched my chest. “Thank you, Todd.”

We moved back to the couch. He lay on my lap and I sang to him again, brushed my fingers through his damp hair and told him about Suzie Boreton. “She snapped one day and left her husband back in Kansas. He was a dead beat, she said, would’ve let a twister ride right over their double-wide without lifting a finger. Packed up the chevy with her kid and left. But the thing that made her stick in my mind…” I started giggling as I remembered. “She had the microwave oven and the TV strapped in their own seats, all careful. The _colour_ TV, she was very particular about that point - that was in the front. Her son was crammed in the back with all the rest of the stuff. She was… a bit of a character.”

He smiled slightly and rolled over to face me. “Will you sing Patrick’s song again?”

I froze. “Dirk… are you sure that’s a good idea?”

He nodded. “I want to hear it again. I know I… it’s a sad song, and I was sad when I heard it but… it’s not what _made_ me sad. It just… made all the sadness come out.”

“OK,” I said. I stroked through his hair again and my hand cupped his cheek as it curved around his ear. He closed his eyes and leaned into it, just a little.

 _“I had a dream I was in school reading your autograph.”_ The song started soft and slow, building as it went. _“Pages of green in seventh grade, now like an epitaph.”_

Dirk sighed and squeezed my leg. His eyes stayed shut, but dry.

_“Alone in your room with an artist inside of you. You died way too soon, but I can still feel you.”_

I felt the music swell in my chest, the same rising of bittersweet pain I always got as I felt the high notes. As the last part died away, Dirk opened his sad eyes and looked up at me. “You must have been really close.”

I took a deep breath and felt my heart beat a little faster. “He was the first person I ever loved. Outside of my family.”

Dirk’s eyes widened, his lips curling into a soft ‘oh.’

I looked up at the fireplace so I didn’t have to keep eye contact. “We were friends from middle school. And then in high school… he was my first boyfriend. First person I ever kissed. First… a lot of things. But he had cystic fibrosis and it causes infections. Like, in your lungs and your gut and… he just. He got ill a lot, you know? But… I still was… shocked. When it happened.”

Dirk scrambled up from my lap so fast I jumped. But before I could worry he gathered me up and held me tight. I clutched back at him, pressing my face into his shoulder and feeling safe in the circle of him.


	9. You Mean Everything To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [You Mean Everything To Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KsPusehEd30)
> 
> 'Cause love heals everything  
> We're no exception to the rule  
> You mean everything to me  
> So if there is anything at all  
> All you've got to do is call  
> And you know that I would  
> Drive 10, 000 miles  
> Just to show you that I care  
> Just to kiss your honey hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SUPER FLUFF! (And some angst because it's me...) BUT MOSTLY FLUFF!

The day passed slowly, but peacefully. We walked a short way down the trail, and I watched Dirk tip his head back to the breeze and the sunlight putting the shimmer back into his skin. He slept again that afternoon, but his lips had a little curl back to them again. 

We woke up the next day tangled together on the couch. Dirk rubbed his eyes and I tried to hold my smile back. It got harder every time I looked at him.

“What time do we have to leave today?”

“About ten,” I said, checking my watch. “You want the front seat or the back?”

He thought about it. “Maybe the front today,” he said, then frowned. “It’s weird. I don’t feel like every movement involves pushing through concrete.”

I let my smile out when it felt like it might burst. “That’s great!”

Worry stole across his face. “What if I get like that again?”

“Well, what if I… got ill, or something?”

“I’d look after you, Todd, of course.”

“There you are. I’d do the same.”

He smiled and the sun rose again. “You’re my best friend, Todd.”

My heart ached and sang at the same time, and I stroked his hair back once more while I thought I could get away with it. “I always will be.”

***

He was still tired, and sometimes he sank into his chair and into his mind. One day, as we crossed into California, he climbed into the back seat and closed his eyes. I covered him with the blanket even though it was probably too hot. But that evening he pushed himself up and came to my gig and stared up at me with a smile and his chin in his hands.

So he wasn’t all cured. Maybe he never would be. But he was better. He shimmered again, more often than not.

And I loved him. I gave up dancing around it in my mind, stared straight into the sun and loved him with every inch of my withered soul.

“Tell him,” said Farah, glaring at me.

“What?”

“Tell him how you feel before he convinces himself that’s just how best friends look at each other.”

I shook my head. “He deserves better than — ow!” I rubbed the back of my head where she’d slapped me. “Seriously?”

“Seriously yourself!” she snapped. “Is… is that really how men think? That you get the person you deserve? No wonder they think you owe them if they’re friendly.”

“What? I never—“

“No, I know, but it’s all part of the same thing. Todd, we don’t get the people we deserve. We sometimes, if we’re lucky, get people we love, who love us back. So stop whining and moaning and tell him how you feel!”

“It’s not as simple as that.”

“Yes, it is—“

“No, Farah, it isn’t! I mean… what if he doesn’t like me back? I’m the only friend he’s got and he…” I gulped.

She shook her head pityingly. “You are just… _such an idiot._ If you can’t see how he looks at you, I just…” She threw her hands up and stomped off. “Idiot.”

***

I watched him after that. I tried to take a step back from my own head and see what Farah was seeing, see how he looked at other people. It was hard to really see how he was looking at me, because whenever our eyes met I was filled with both a terrified sort of joy and an overwhelming need to be what he wanted. My mind was completely occupied with instructions to smile! be kind! be better! sit up straight! don’t think that! he’s looking! be better!

But I started to notice… maybe his smiles were different when he smiled at me. Maybe his eyes were softer when they looked at me. 

Maybe it was wishful thinking, but there was hope growing in my stomach, rising until it filled me, a fragile, feathered thing.

***

I am selfish, I thought, as I moved the capo down a fret. My hands were trembling, my heart was beating so hard I could barely breathe.

It was the last gig. We were in San Francisco bay and I glanced up at Dirk, remembering how I’d offered him a lift back in Portland. He smiled at me and I had to close my eyes before my heart fell out of my mouth. 

“This is…” I swallowed and tried to get my voice under control, cleared my throat. “This is a new song. And… it’s one I wrote for the… the person I love.”

The audience cooed and I winced. I didn’t dare look at Dirk. “I hope he likes it,” I said, all in a rush, and stepped back.

I picked the intro, concentrating on hitting the beat perfectly. By the time I came to sing I’d calmed down just enough.

_“Sharing with us what he knows. Shining eyes are big and blue. And all around him water flows, this world to him is new.”_

I still had my eyes shut, focusing on the words, on pouring everything I felt for him into the song.

_“He’s born to shimmer, he’s born to shine. He’s born to radiate. He’s born to live, he’s born to love, but we will teach him how to hate.”_

As I played I gathered the courage to look up, look right at him. And God, he did shimmer, the light catching on his auburn hair, his sad, beautiful eyes lighting up my world.

_“I want to shimmer, I want to shine, I want to radiate. I want to live, I want to love, I want to try learn how not to hate, how not to hate.”_

As the song came to an end I pulled the guitar off over my head with trembling hands and jumped off stage before the clapping even stopped. Dirk was on his feet and grabbed me in one of his awkward, lovely hugs.

“Y-you know who it’s about, right?”

Dirk smiled and nodded, but my heart crumbled because he looked so sad. 

“It doesn’t have to…”

“Patrick would have loved it,” he said, squeezing my shoulders and holding me at arms’ length.

“P-Patrick?”

He nodded, and turned. “I’m going to… drink. You want—“

“Dirk!” I snapped, way too loud. Three people standing near me jumped. I pushed my way after him and grabbed his hand. “Hey! Patrick? You thought it was about _Patrick?”_

“Well, yes,” he said, not looking at me properly. “You said… you said it was for the person you love.”

I tugged him closer and grabbed both of his hands. “Yeah, I loved him, it’s true. But… but he was half my life ago.” I ducked to catch his eye. “It… it’s about you.”

“You…”

“I lo—“ the sound stuck in my throat and I had to gasp for air. “I love you.”

“You love me?”

I nodded and looked down at our hands, the hope drawing away again. “It doesn’t… mean we have to change. I mean, we’ll be friends no matter—“

He let go of my hands to cup my cheeks and pulled me into a kiss. I gasped as his soft lips pressed against mine, then grabbed his waist to pull him close. I nearly cried as his arms wound around my shoulders, whimpering into the kiss and begging the universe to let me hold onto him forever, this precious person ducking his head to kiss me again and again.”

I was vaguely aware of people whistling and clapping. Farah yelled “fucking finally!” and camera flashes sparked around us.

Dirk only stopped kissing me to hug me tighter, wrapping me close and pressing his face into my neck. I slipped my hands under his jacket and clenched my fingers in his shirt. We stood there swaying for maybe a lifetime, while the thing with feathers swelled out of me and became infinite.


	10. Rewind the Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Rewind the Years](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=anSXoTB6tPA)  
>  Black and grey led me astray  
> And the deepest love behind your sad eyes, behind your sad eyes  
> I was wrong and you played along  
> You followed me into the sea, into the sea
> 
> Now the days get old and the nights are so cold  
> And I still hear your voice singing sweet songs  
> And I fight back my tears, try and rewind the years  
> 'Cause that's all I can do now that you're gone
> 
> Since you been gone, I can't find a reason  
> No, I can't seem to find a way  
> With the changing of the seasons  
> You just faded away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kinda cheating because this song isn't on the Soul's Core album - oh well! Originally this story was going to end last chapter, but it bugged me that Todd still hadn't tackled his relationship with Amanda, so I get to torture this poor boy a bit more ;_;

Farah had booked us all into the same Air B&B for a change. She said she didn’t care what I said about saving money, she was getting a damn beach house and sleeping for a week, and I could stay or sleep in my car. Blinking awake in the thin morning light, the sound of heavy surf outside the window, I was glad I’d taken her up on it.

I almost didn’t dare roll around. The morning was so perfect, clouds and splattering raindrops on the window and all, it couldn’t possibly be real. Then he moved and shifted closer to me, and I thought my soul was going to burst.

I shifted around on the bed, my arm looping over his waist. We’d fallen asleep fully clothed on top of the sheets, and my button-down shirt was twisted and trying to strangle me. But I had never felt more perfect. Dirk’s hair fanned out on the pillow, his lips slightly parted, his eyelashes delicate on his cheekbones. As I stared at him, he reached out blindly and pulled me tight against his chest. “That’s better,” he murmured, tucking my face into his neck.

I laughed and silently agreed, closing my eyes again. I felt alive.

***

Farah smirked at us when we came out for breakfast. “You’ve got, like, a million likes on your getting-together video on facebook,” she grinned.

I frowned and slouched into my chair, pouring myself some cereal. Dirk went to look over her shoulder. “Is that what we _look_ like? Todd, you should see this, my arse is a very strange shape. Does it really look like this _all the time?_ ” He twisted around, trying to look at his own ass.

“I bet Todd thinks your ass looks just fine,” Farah said.

I rolled my eyes and blushed into my cereal.

“Is it?” Dirk said, looking up and fixing me with an intense stare. “Are you sure it’s OK?”

“Wh… yeah, Dirk, of course.”

“Really? You’re sure?” He turned around again like a dog chasing his tail. Farah giggled.

I put my spoon down and grabbed his belt. “Dirk, your ass is great. Seriously. Like, I really like your ass, please use it to sit down?”

He cocked his head on one side and smiled at me. “Thank you, Todd, that’s really sweet of you to say,” he said, like he hadn’t just basically dragged the confession out of me. I laughed and shook my head, and finished my cereal.

Could this be my life now? Could this be what I got to wake up to every morning, a ridiculous man with no filters whatsoever and the sweetest smile? Even when he was being a sarcastic little shit he had this core of honey and kindness underneath the sass.

How long could I keep this without fucking it all up?

***

When the clouds passed, leaving blue skies and a watery sun, Farah decided to spend the entire day in a bikini on the beach. Dirk and I managed half an hour of freezing wind and sunburn before accepting she was just tougher than us in every way, and went for a walk in many more clothes.

“I’ve never been to San Fransisco,” Dirk said, looking up at the tangle of wires overhead and the colourful houses. “Have you?”

“Yeah, last year. I was only passing through, though, that tour finished in Miami, I think.”

His head snapped around as a streetcar trundled past, clanking. His eyes were bright and fascinated, and I thought I could spend every day walking through the streets of strange cities to watch that look on his face.

And then I saw her. Dirk was talking, chattering about skyscrapers and steep hills and painting bridges or something. I turned my head, and there was Amanda.

I stopped dead, and stared across the road. My sister was standing there with her arms crossed, her long black hair whipping across her face. She met my eye and my heart dropped into my feet. I was starting forward to race across the road when a beat up van screamed to a halt in front of her, electroclash music vibrating the ground even through the traffic noise, and when it pulled away she was gone.

I raced across the road, dodging cars and ignoring the drivers yelling at me. The van was moving down a side street, rocking from side to side, and adrenaline hammered through me - had I just seen my sister kidnapped? I pushed myself faster, raced out into the sun on the other side. The van was sitting at a set of traffic lights and I have never run so fast in my life.

She was in the front seat. I saw her just as the lights turned green. There was a white haired man driving, and she sat calmly at his side. As they pulled away she turned and met my eye again. “Amanda!” I screamed, but she looked away quickly, and the van’s wheels screamed as they shot across the intersection.

I slumped over, breathing hard. My heart was pounding, my lungs ached, and by the time Dirk caught up with me I was trembling from the comedown. He leaned against the wall, breathing hard. “What was that?” he asked. “If I’d known you didn’t like hearing about architecture all you had to do was ask me to stop, you didn’t have to run off like some building-phobic — is that it? Oh, I’m sorry, Todd, do you have a fear of buildings? No, it can’t be—“

“Will you just shut up?” I snapped. 

He blinked, his mouth snapping shut, and looked at me, his face slack. “OK… oh. Sorry. I can, actually… shutting up now.”

I closed my eyes and wanted to cry. It turns out I can’t even make twenty-four hours in a relationship without being an absolute asshole and hurting someone who never deserved anything bad in his life. “Sorry,” I muttered. “Can we just…” I wanted to go back to the house, I wanted to curl under the covers of the bed where I’d been so happy that morning, I wanted to hide and pretend that I was someone else, someone who didn’t break everything and betray everyone. “Let’s just… carry on, shall we?”

Dirk tilted his face on one side and looked at me like he was searching for the truth of the universe in my eyes. He gave a little smile and slipped his hand into mine. “OK, Todd. Let’s go see the bridge.”

I tried, I really did. I tried to make myself cheerful for him, pushed every facsimile of happiness outwards so that he’d enjoy our day out. I’d already yelled at him, I didn’t need to ruin his day of being a tourist. But I was obviously doing a shitty job. He kept showing me things, then frowning even as I smiled about them. “Would you like to see something different? How about the aquarium? What about a drink? We could go to a cafe, get you some of that horrible black coffee you love so much.”

“Dirk, it’s fine,” I said.

“Are you sure? Because you don’t _look_ fine. You look sad. You… you look like you’re going to cry.”

“I’m not going to cry!” I scoffed. I absolutely was not going to cry.

“OK," he said, and it had the definite sound of someone placating me, which put my hackles up even further. “What would you like to do?”

I deflated. I didn’t know what to say, because what I wanted to do was go back to the house and worry about Amanda. Why was she in San Fransisco? Did she have her meds? Did she have enough money? Who were those guys and what the fuck had happened to their van? Was she safe?

Was she ever going to talk to me again?

“Let’s go ride a cable car,” I said, and smiled up at Dirk.

He looked at me like I was crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is also a day early, because I'm off on holiday tomorrow. The next chapter will probably be a day late too, I'm afraid, because it's due on my daughter's birthday and I'll be knackered from wrangling a bunch of 8 year olds running around the countryside lol! Sorry to leave it on such a down note aaah!


	11. All In My Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [All In My Head](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ApaZO5w6NJg)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> I'm just trying to get by  
> I'm just buzzin' on a sugar high  
> Yeah  
> Everybody moves so fast  
> No time to wonder why...  
> Yeah  
> I'm just trying to get by  
> Is it all in my head?  
> Is it all in my head  
> Could everything be so right without me knowing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Serious emotional hurt comfort in this chapter, plus a panic attack and a LOT of self-loathing, but also Farah and Dirk showing just how amazing they are too... This chapter was heavily inspired by a conversation with [electricteatime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricteatime), we have a LOT of Todd feels ;_;

By the time we got back to the AirB&B I was buzzing on a sugar high from all the frappuccinos Dirk had insisted on getting, trying to hold it all together. Dirk was fluttering around me, trying to make it better, and a huge part of me wanted to take my comfort from him, press my head into his chest and beg him to tell me everything would be OK. But every time I reached for him I remembered Amanda turning away quickly, turning her back on me because I was a bastard and a traitor. I’d taken her trust and her love and I’d torn it up, thrown it back at her, no wonder she never wanted to see me again. 

I imagined her breaking free of the cage that illness had given her, escaping from the fear and running away with this new friend of hers. I was willing to bet he didn’t have her best interests at heart - but of course, _I’d_ never had her best interests at heart, had I? I’d cheated and lied and been self-serving my entire life, and I’d made everything impossibly hard for my family because I was a selfish dick. 

I wondered if she’d come to San Fransisco to get away from her past in Seattle… I tried to imagine how she’d felt seeing me across the road. I’d _chased_ her, and all she’d wanted to do was get away from me.

I wondered if I’d ever hear from her again.

I leant on the counter and listened to Dirk talking to Farah in the next room, the sunset painting the interior of the little clapboard house in pinks and orange. I tried to take a breath, but the band around my chest squeezed me tighter. I tried to breathe out and ease the pressure, but the lump rising in my throat told me if I did, I would actually cry. I was stuck in that space between breaths.

I started to panic, my arms trembling as they held me up, and the small gasps I could take began to get closer and closer together, making me dizzy and even more afraid. When I finally took one deep gulp of air, it was followed immediately by sobs, so loud I clapped my hand over my mouth and stumbled away to hide, be ashamed in peace.

“Todd?”

I moved faster, crashing through the door into our bedroom, trying to slam it behind me. I scrambled over the bed and onto the floor on the other side, hiding between the bedside table and the wall like a fucking child playing hide and seek, clamping my hands over my mouth and rocking, trying to hold myself together while cracks were forming across me.

“Todd?” His voice was so much closer and I turned my face away, I didn’t want him to see me like this, not Dirk. He needed me to be strong, if he knew I was such a useless fuck-up he’d realise he was with the wrong person and he’d have to leave. I’d been trying to warn him, but he hadn’t believed me, and now he was going to see how weak I was, how pathetic and selfish and _he_ was the one with actual problems, with actual trauma to deal with. Everything I was upset about I’d brought on myself, and how _dare_ I act like this, like I needed anything from anyone? Useless-fucking-hateful-asshole-bastard-traitor-thief

He wrapped me up in his long arms, one sliding under my knees, the other around my back. He lifted me like I was nothing (I am _nothing_ ) and carried me onto the bed. He sat me in his lap and rocked me, whispering words I couldn’t hear into my hair.

And I took from him, I took everything he could give, like a fucking vampire. I clung to his shirt and pressed my face into his collarbone, every muscle rigid as I wept like some useless-attention-seeking-piece-of-shit-bastard-hateful-useless-useless-useless

“Hey, are you guys OK in here?” Farah knocked on the door, and made a surprised noise. I curled myself tighter on Dirk’s lap. That was bad enough, but for Farah to see me too? I wished I could make myself smaller, make myself disappear, take myself away from everyone I kept hurting-hurting-hurting-hating-ihatemyselfihatemyself

Farah started singing, stroking my hair. Her voice wobbled as she sang and I knew it was my fault, I’d upset her, I upset everyone.

_“Little darling, it’s been a long cold lonely winter. Little darling, it feels like years since it’s been here.”_

Dirk’s soft voice joined, uncertain, like he didn’t quite know the tune. _“Here comes the sun, doo do doo doo, here comes the sun, and I say it’s all right.”_

I cried, and I pushed myself into her comfort, and I clung to him. I took everything they could give me and still I cried.

***

It was dark when I woke up, my head aching and feeling like I’d stuffed a bagful of cotton wool up my nose. It felt like a horrible dream, but I remembered not being able to breathe right, being held close and surrounded with so much love it was embarrassing, being lowered onto the bed and wrapped tight.

Dirk’s arms were still wrapped around me, his nose pressed into the base of my neck. I closed my eyes and wondered when he’d give up on me to save himself.

“Stop it,” Farah said softly, and I opened my eyes again. She was lying on the edge of our bed, leaving a perfect few inches of air in between us. As I blinked at her, the cool ocean moonlight streaming into the room and shining silver off her face, she reached out and squeezed my arm. “I can see you spiralling, Todd.”

I bit my lip. I wanted to laugh it off but I didn’t trust myself to make any kind of noise.

“You wanna talk now?”

I shook my head.

She sighed. “I’ve been waiting for this, you know. I’m just glad we were here when it happened, I was so worried you’d have a breakdown somewhere and I wouldn’t know if you were just off on one of your stupid detours, sleeping in your car, or visiting a town twenty miles off our route.”

“You’ve been _waiting_ for this?” I asked, suddenly indignant. Apparently irritation and anger was very good at keeping me functional.

She squeezed my arm again and left her hand there, rubbing across my bicep with her thumb as she spoke. “You look after people like you wish someone would look after you, you know that?”

“What are you talking about?” I asked. “I know I’ve been looking after Dirk when he was ill, but are you… are you honestly saying that I only did that because I wanted him to… to _reciprocate_ or something?” I sat up, Dirk’s arm falling off my waist with a thunk. I knew my face was twisted in a snarl, I was furious with her. 

She was right. That’s the only reason I’d ever do anything so kind.

“It’s not just Dirk,” she said, sitting up to face me. “It’s Amanda, your parents—“

“I’m repaying my debt!”

“—it’s all the people you meet on tour. Silas and Panto, you think I haven’t seen the messages you send them through the facebook group, checking up on them, congratulating them when they post. Those kids, what were they— Bart and Ken, that’s it. I thought you barely spoke to them, but they’re dropping you messages telling you about the latest town they’ve been through, answering questions like you were asking about their… their _diet_. Like you worry they’re not eating enough vitamins.”

“You’ve been reading my messages?” My voice was high pitched and stupid, but I was so mad.

“I’m your fucking manager, and I run your social media accounts! If you want to send private messages get a private facebook account and talk to people through that, or text them, for God’s sake! Yes, I read your messages, I have to answer all the damn messages about gigs, they come through the same app! Jesus, you were even messaging Tina about some addiction group she’s joined. She says thanks for listening, by the way. Todd, you’re like… determined to be everything to everyone!”

“That’s not true,” I laughed, and crossed my arms across my chest. Dirk, who’d woken up when I moved, shifted closer and rubbed my shoulder, pulling me into a hug. I considered sinking into his comfort, then straightened up. “I’m not trying to be anything.”

“I know you’re not,” she sighed, her forehead wrinkled and sad. “You’re not trying, that’s just _you_. You’re… protective. If you decide someone’s… _yours_ , you want to fight for them. I sometimes wonder how far you’d go for us and it worries me.”

I closed my eyes. I couldn’t even do friendship right. I felt hollowed out, an empty shell.

She put her hand on my forearm and I opened my eyes. “I don’t think it’s a bad thing. It’s a hell of a thing, being part of this family you’re making. I feel like… I dunno, if I got kidnapped by enemy agents you’d cross the entire US to come find me.” A smile crept across her face. I had to nod, because I couldn’t imagine any situation that would stop me from finding Farah if she was taken away from me. Or Dirk, either. Or Amanda, or my parents, not that they’d want me to come get them.

“But you know we love you like that too, right?”

I blinked down at my hands. That was stupid. If I was taken away somewhere, I’d want them to stay far away. That would be the right thing to do, they shouldn’t have to put their lives to one side just for me. 

Dirk’s arm slid around my shoulder and onto my chest and he shuffled until he was sitting right behind me. “If anyone tried to take you away I’d fight the universe to get you back.”

“Damn straight,” said Farah.

Something in me was squirming to get away from the thought. It sounded a lot like unconditional love to me, and that… that wasn’t _for_ me. I’d done too many bad things, who could love me unconditionally through all that?

Dirk pressed his cheek next to mine and spoke softly, like he could see into my mind. “You could kill someone and I’d still love you.”

I blinked rapidly as my eyes prickled, a band of tension wrapping around my skull. It couldn’t be true. 

Farah linked her hand in one of mine as I hid my face in Dirk’s neck. “You beautiful wreck, Todd Brotzman,” she said, a sad smile in her voice.

“You’re going to have to learn to believe us,” Dirk murmured, starting to rock me again. I wanted to tell him I wasn’t a child, I didn’t need to be comforted, but… I did. “You’re going to have to accept that we love you as much as you love us. But it’s OK if you don’t understand that right now. We’ll teach you. That’s what always-best-friends are for.”

“And boyfriends,” Farah smiled at him. “I think you can call yourself boyfriends, Dirk.”

He squeezed me tighter and I could feel his smile against my skin. “Boyfriends, then,” he whispered.


	12. Anchored In You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Anchored In You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SQ6etVhpw2A)  
>  But I've always known since I was a child  
> That the road is my home, and my spirit is wild.  
> And I have my memories, and I've got lots of time  
> And I'm stoned in San Francisco  
> With you on my mind  
> I am in motion, I am blue,  
> Love is an ocean, I'm anchored in you.

I was embarrassed by how much they insisted on looking after me. I didn’t want anyone walking on eggshells around me, afraid of me bursting into tears like some hysterical toddler.

“Todd,” said Dirk, when I told him. He had his hand on his hip, the other hand waving a frying pan around. “Do you feel like that about me?”

“What? No, of course not!”

“So you don’t go around watching what you say around me because I might start crying and go crawl into bed at the slightest provocation? You don’t worry about that?”

“Well… no. I don’t want you to get ill again, but… but I know you’re more resilient than that, you’re not just gonna sink back into depression every time I say we’re out of milk,” I scoffed.

“Then why on _earth_ would you think that’s what we think about you?” He watched me mutter under my breath, then pulled me close and kissed my temple. “I want to look after you, just like you look after me, that’s all. That’s what boyfriends do, isn’t it?”

I looked up at him, smiling shyly at me under his lashes, like he wasn’t sure if that was right. I stood on my toes and kissed him properly, hearing the frying pan thunk onto the hob as his arms came around my waist.

“Eww, keep it in the bedroom, boys,” said Farah, grinning and shaking her head. Dirk blushed and apologised and went back to frying eggs, so I kissed his temple, and made myself some coffee.

It was a perfect morning. That in itself was enough to make me worry, because nothing this good stayed that way. 

I was right, too.

“What’s that noise?” said Farah, turning towards the deck.

I was pretty sure I knew what I’d see when I heard the thumping bass. My heart pounding painfully, I pushed the door open onto the beach with a squeak of hinges. 

“Amanda.”

She stood on the deck, her arms crossed, looking tiny and vulnerable and furious and scared all at once. “Hey,” she said, her voice clipped.

A group of men came up to stand behind her, all towering over the both of us with their arms crossed. I recognised the blonde guy from yesterday and immediately just wanted to shove Amanda behind me and _fight_ every fucking one of them. That or run far away. They scared the actual shit out of me, but I hated them.

Dirk and Farah came to join me, and I heard Dirk suck in a breath and step back. “What?” I asked him.

“The Rowdy Three,” he said, staring at the men.

“There’s four of them,” I frowned.

“I’m wildly aware,” he snapped. “They were… they were there too.”

“What?” My blood went cold as I realised what that particular inflection of _there_ meant. “You mean… in the CIA place, with the scientists?”

The little guy hissed and started pulling at his hair. One of them set up a low, feral growl, and the white-haired guy jerked his chin and grinned at Dirk. “Hey, Icarus.”

“That’s not my name,” he said, his voice barely loud enough to carry. I hated blondie even more.

“Icarus, Icarus, Icarus,” yelled the little guy.

“Hey, asshole, you heard him.”

“Enough,” said Amanda, turning to glance at him. I noticed she’d shaved the side of her head. “Uh, so Todd… new people. This is Martin, Vogel, Cross and Gripps.”

“This is Farah and Dirk,” I said, gesturing. Dirk waved.

“Cool. Can I come in?”

I was twitching with nerves as I nodded. “But if you’re assholes to Dirk, I’ll kick you out,” I said to the four guys.

Martin shook his head, lighting a cigarette from the butt of his last one. “We’ll be out here.”

“I’m gonna build a sandcastle,” said Gripps, and Vogel whooped and did some sort of terrifying backflip off the deck onto the sand.

“Can I make you a cup of coffee?” asked Farah, clapping her hands awkwardly in front of her.

“Yeah, thanks, that’d be great,” said Amanda. She walked over to the kitchen table like she was going to stand trial. I don’t think I was much better.

We sat down opposite each other. I kept sneaking looks at her. She looked good - wilder hair, more eye makeup, more sharp and punk, but it suited her. She looked free. But she was also staring off to the side, biting her lip and generally looking as awkward as I felt.

“I should just say,” said Dirk, sitting next to me and leaning towards Amanda, “that Todd is very, very sorry for everything he did and he’s really—“

“Dirk!”

“You told people?” she said, her voice sharp.

“I mean… I told some… I had to…”

“He tried to make us stop being his friend,” said Farah dryly.

Dirk nodded. “He tries to convince people he’s an arsehole, it’s a bit of a thing he does.”

“If you hang out with him more than twenty four hours,” added Farah, handing out mugs.

“What is this, an intervention?” I snapped.

“Yes, Todd,” Farah and Dirk said in chorus. Amanda looked from one to the other with her eyebrows raised.

“Well, could you drop it?”

Farah sighed. “Come on, Dirk, let’s leave them to talk.”

“But—“

“Come on,” she grumbled, tugging him by his jacket. They bickered all the way to Farah’s room, leaving the silence behind.

“They seem nice,” she said, fiddling with some sugar grains on the table. Her leg was tapping in a fast rhythm.

“They are,” I said, smiling to myself.

The silence fell again. Amanda slurped her coffee.

“So… what brings you to California?”

“You do,” she said. She wouldn’t meet my eyes, and I couldn’t think of a single thing to say, so I held my tongue. Eventually she looked up. “I saw the pictures on Facebook. Of Dirk. Martin recognised him, and I… uh, I was…”

I suddenly realised what she’d thought, and my heart sank.

“I was worried you were taking advantage of him,” she said, sticking her chin out, always braver than me. “Martin said he was a real innocent, like Vogel, and when I saw the way he looked at you in those photos, I just…”

I nodded. “OK… that’s… that’s fair.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “No it’s not, dumbass. Don’t be such a fucking victim. You’re not taking advantage of him, are you?”

“Of course not!”

“Well, then, don’t tell me it’s fair!”

I threw my hands up. “What do you want from me, oh my God!”

“I want some fucking honesty, Todd!”

I deflated. “I’m sorry.”

She sat back and crossed her arms. “Yeah, I know.” She twisted her lips. “I was pissed at you for so long.”

“I… I know I’ve said it but I really am so sorry.”

“I didn’t care about the money, you know? I didn’t give a shit. Not like Mom and Dad ever approved of either of us—“

“It should have been yours.”

She snorted. “I don’t care about the money. If I cared, I’d have taken it from you the first time. But I _worshipped_ you and you lied to me.”

I nodded, my head hanging low.

“I loved you.”

It stabbed me through the chest and I swallowed hard, holding my breath to stop myself from crying. This wasn’t about me. I couldn’t make it about me.

“You were my hero.” She shook her head. I nodded again. I felt like one of those toy dogs people put in the back of cars. Amanda sniffled and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “I thought you were so brave, and I felt so fucking stupid when I found out you were lying the whole time.”

I tried to focus on the texture of the coffee mug under my fingertips, running them over the design again and again until they were desensitised. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. I tried to keep it back, she didn’t want to hear it, but it crept out of me.

She sighed. “I know. And… I think it’s OK.”

I snapped my head up to look at her, desperately hopeful. She rolled her eyes. “We’re not back to where we were but… I forgive you.”

I stared at her. My eyes were burning, my breath was trembling with the effort of holding back my tears, I had to make sure, I…

“Todd, are you… _crying?”_

“N-no.”

“Dude, seriously?”

“I’m not, I’m… are you… oh fuck.” I whimpered and pressed my face into my hands. “Fuck, sorry, ignore me, it’ll go away, I just…” I took a deep breath and wiped my face. Amanda was staring at me like she’d never seen me before. “I’m not crying. I’m fine.”

“Sure,” she drawled. She frowned. “Really? It really upset you that much?”

“Are you fucking joking? Of course it did! You’re my baby sister, I h—“ I cleared my throat. “I hate myself so much for what I did.”

She grabbed my hand in both hers, looking so concerned, and I nearly broke down right there because I’d _still_ managed to make it about me when it should have been about her, and what she needed. “You’re not supposed to hate yourself,” she said.

“OK.” I concentrated on breathing because if I didn’t, the world would have tilted sideways. My head spun as I forced myself to stop crying and keep breathing normally, keep it out of sight.

Amanda saw anyway. She laughed, one short, painful sound, and then started crying herself, and hugged me. 

I think I had an aneurism because this couldn’t be real. She was never going to forgive me, that was supposed to be a constant. Gravity pulls down, the sea is salty, I’m an asshole, and my sister hates me. They were just immutable facts, and now… now Amanda didn’t hate me? I swallowed down all my panic and wrapped my arms around her, trying not to squeeze her too hard, trying to give her an out, in case she remembered that I was the worst person in the world.

Eventually she pulled away, and I forced myself to let her go. Her makeup was a bit more smudged than it had been, but she thumped me on the shoulder with one skinny fist. “Asshole,” she grinned.

I laughed, my head spinning. “Jackass.”

“OK,” she said, getting up and draining her cold coffee. “I’m gonna take the boys and head down to New Mexico or something, see some cacti.”

“You’re not staying?”

She looked at me. “I’ve been stuck in that flat for two years. The Rowdies keep me safe, but they let me live. I don’t have to be afraid when I’m with them. So yeah, damn straight I’m not staying. Not staying anywhere for longer than I have to - and don’t you dare say sorry again.”

“OK,” I said, biting my tongue.

She gave me a half smile. “Never know, maybe we’ll end up in the same town again. I’ll bring the boys to one of your gigs.”

I smiled properly at her, warmth flooding my skin. She yelled goodbye to Farah and Dirk, then ran out to the deck and jumped onto Cross’ back. The Rowdies whooped and kicked their sandcastles over and tumbled into the van one after the other. Martin was the last one in, holding my gaze and flicking his cigarette in my direction. I just rolled my eyes and held up my middle finger. He snorted, smiled and flipped me the bird back. Amanda leaned out of the front window. “See ya, asshole!”

And they were gone.

I breathed out shakily. Dirk’s hand on my waist made me jump, then lean back into him. “Are you OK?” he asked. 

I turned around and sighed into his shoulder. “I think so?”

“I told you she’d see you like I do one day,” he said, a smile in his voice.

“Dirk, literally nobody else sees me like you do.”

“Oh. Well, at least that means I get you all to myself.”

Farah laughed. “You two are so gross.” Then she squeezed my shoulder. “Are you really OK, though?”

I smiled and nodded. Then the euphoria tilted, just slightly, and I had to press my face to Dirk’s shoulder as all the _things_ I’d been holding in since Amanda arrived came flooding out. Dirk’s arms wrapped tighter around me as I started almost vibrating, trying to keep my tears silent. Dirk held me and rocked me, and hushed.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I… I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I’ll… I’ll stop, I—“

“Hey, don’t be daft,” he said, kissing me on the top of the head. “You need this. Remember? You wouldn’t be so hard on yourself if it was the flu.”

I laughed, and tightened my fingers into his shirt as they turned into sobs. I felt stupid and childish and pathetic… but if it had been the other way round, if he’d been the one crying, I wouldn’t have thought those things about him. I let myself lean on him, and on Farah, and trusted them enough to look after me.

***

Later, I curled up under the sheets with Dirk’s arms around me, a dull headache pressing against the bridge of my nose. The stars above and the lights of the city reflected in the water blurred together through the window, the curtains billowing gently in the breeze. I thought of the view from the cliffs at Twin Rocks, Oregon, the smell of the sea and the way the wind pulled at you. Dirk rubbed his thumb up and down my back, and I thought maybe this was what perfect meant.

“Hey,” I said into his ear, his hair tickling my face and smelling like heaven. “I could give you a lift to Seattle if you like. Maybe via Kentucky, or New York.”

He squeezed me and smiled. “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This story sucked me in and wouldn't let me go, and I couldn't resist telling it, so thank you for facilitating that! I hope you enjoyed the happy ending ^_^ Todd and Dirk both have a long way to go, but they'll get there together, with Farah's help too. And now with Amanda and the Rowdies along for the ride every now and then...


End file.
